Mind your PQ

This is not a peeve. Oh, it may sound like one of those old Andy Rooney “You know what drives me up a wall?” screeds, but it isn’t. Nor is it comparable to a stand-up’s typical opening: “Don’t you think it’s weird when . . ..” No, this isn’t griping or lampooning, and it concerns a lot of people.

My wife and I enter a restaurant for lunch, obey the sign on the counter by seating ourselves, and wait for the twentyish waitress several tables down to offer us menus. That she does, but first she gives us an over-solicitous, falsetto “How are you!,” almost giggling she’s so happy to see us. “Here are your menus! How are we doing today! Can I get you some water!” Everything out of her mouth, regardless of content—She could be saying “My cat is really sick!”–is an effervescent, singsong exclamation. All her features try to convey an absolute giddiness that the three of us have crossed paths. She and we are partners in a bliss that in fact she has constructed out of whole mirage cloth. This is not a caring individual; this is a showperson.

Of course, I grip the table as she lays on this veneer of rapture and I respond in a dull monotone, avoiding eye contact. Later, another waitress serves us, with reasonable affect, and at the end of the meal I’m tempted to thank her for not being perky. But I don’t.

It doesn’t have to be a waitress, of course, with a high PQ—Perk Quotient. It could be a coworker, an aunt, a babysitter, a cashier at a grocery, an elementary-school teacher, or a “life coach.” It’s probably not a corporate executive, a scientist, a technician, or a carpenter. And it’s definitely not a male, at least not a heterosexual male. This phenomenon is primarily a woman thing.

I don’t get it. Forty years go, maybe it makes more sense: Women were brought up to please, they were taught to be cheerful regardless of the circumstances, they were counted on to pretend to everyone within earshot that all was right with the world, even if they were floundering between the sixth and seventh levels of hell. The idea was that men would do the heavy lifting while the women would whistle the happy background tunes.

But now? Can this be happening after women have made so many gains, after many of them have fought so hard to be considered as thoughtful, serious, competent, responsible individuals, equal to any male counterpart? Granted, there’s still a ways to go, but men and women are legally and socially a lot closer to equal in 2013 than they were in 1973.

So why are young women going around with abnormally high voices trying to inject an ersatz enthusiasm into every encounter? Who reinforces them for exhibiting that kind of behavior? Are they surrounded by family, friends, and employers who believe in women as mere cheerleaders? Is that what some guys want from their girlfriends, lovers, and wives? Is everyone under 30 totally oblivious of feminist history?

I’m not advocating that every woman take on a deathly somber persona. Friendly is good. Helpful is good. Even cheerful is good. What is not good is fake, simplistic, childish, patronizing mannerisms that demean women. Because make no mistake about it: The more women act like this, the more they’re going to convince the easy thinkers that women should act like this. And that’s not good for any of us.

So please, to the high PQ women out there, take it down a notch. You don’t have to be so perky. You can smile, you can make light banter, you can establish connections with the people you meet. But don’t push; it’s okay to be yourself (probably). Relax. Have confidence that if you act normally, people will like and respect you. And if they don’t, it’s their loss. It’s not your job to be a cheerleader.

I’m not asking you to become a capital-F Feminist—though that’s not a bad thing. You don’t have to actively try to convert sexists or be a standard-bearer for a movement. But I am asking you to become a small-f feminist: Set an example. Retain your dignity. You can do this.